


Five Things About Ianto

by engagemythrusters



Category: Torchwood
Genre: 5 Things, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Possibly saccharine, Post-Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: Jack has a lot of thoughts about Ianto. These are some of his best thoughts.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 14
Kudos: 173





	Five Things About Ianto

**Author's Note:**

> Group chats get me writing again, evidently...  
> No explicit sex, but there are a fair amount of allusions to it.

The drive from the Hub to Ianto's flat isn't too long, though it's enough time for Jack to think about things. Of course, Ianto would yell at him for zoning out while he's driving, but Ianto isn't here, is he? No. So, Jack can think about whatever the hell he wants, damn it!

The first thing that comes to mind is that it's funny that Jack has gotten to the point where he can argue with Ianto in his head, even when Ianto isn't actually there. He's not sure when that will come in handy, but one never knows. 

It is odd, though. He didn't use to argue with Ianto in his head. He also didn't use to drive to Ianto's flat after he'd finished with the day. Jack supposes those are some of the many things that have changed since Tosh and Owen... well... since Tosh and Owen. They go along with Gwen becoming jumpier all the time, or Ianto reverting back to his invisible-presence faze, or Jack becoming... "pensive" is a good word for it, Ianto says. Time might ease those things out, though. Gwen's self-confidence will return, and she will become surer of herself and her skills. Ianto will start talking in the Hub again and will learn that bad things won't happen if he does. Jack probably won't stop being pensive, but he will become less... well, Ianto calls it "broody" but Jack thinks that word works better for when Myfanwy gets in one of those nesting moods. Right? 

Whatever. The point is, these things will change. They will return to some state of normalcy, and everything will be okay. 

But... would that mean Jack would stop arguing with Ianto in his head? That he'd stop driving to Ianto's flat at the end of the day? That he wouldn't think of Ianto, both for his well-being and just in general, all of the time anymore? Had that even _started_ when Tosh and Owen had died?

Jack frowns. When _did_ he start going to Ianto's flat at the end of the day?

After a few moments too many when he can't come up with an answer, he starts to panic a little. Shit, did he lose yet another thing to his two-thousand-year nap underground? He digs around his pocket and pulls out his mobile, glancing between it and the road as he dials a number ("Don't distract yourself from the road, Jack!" the Ianto in his head harps at him. He gives it a mental glare and keeps dialling.)

The other end picks up and there is a lot of rustling before the other person says anything.

"What is it?"

Jack blinks. Ianto sounds distracted. He probably is; Ianto gets distracted easier than he'd like others to believe. But Ianto forgets to feed himself when he gets distracted.

"I was just wondering..." Oh, to hell with his question. Change of plans. "Should I pick up something to eat?"

"Oh. Um."

Which obviously means yes, because Ianto clearly hasn't even thought about food yet. 

"Chinese? Thai? Curry? Fish and chips? Pizza?"

"Whatever's good with you," Ianto says. He still sounds a little distant.

"Everything okay?" Jack asks.

"Yeah. Just doing the laundry."

"I'll bring home some curry," Jack tells him, then rings off.

Home, he realises as he turns the car around to go back to Ianto's favourite curry place. He'd said "home." When had Jack started saying that? And what about Ianto? He had said "the laundry." Not "my laundry." _The_ laundry. When had Jack's laundry become incorporated with Ianto's? 

What does this say about Ianto? What does it say about Jack? Hell, what does it say about them _,_ as in, _them_?

Is there a _them_?

Jack wants to think so. Shit, what does _that_ mean?

He has to take a breath. A deep, deep breath, one that has the lady standing in front of him in line for curry glance back at him with an odd expression. He doesn't apologise, like Ianto undoubtedly would (fuck, why is he thinking about that?), and instead takes another and tries to calm himself down.

Gwen once had him sit down and work on mindfulness. This had been after that whole two-missing-days event, when Jack had been feeling jumpy for some reason he couldn't explain. Ianto had joined them, because Ianto had gone full-out repression mode and had been pretending he was okay, even if his diet (rather, the lack-thereof) had proven otherwise. And Tosh had joined as well, because she liked to meditate. They'd sat there for an hour and done stupid things, but Jack has to admit... they sort of worked. He will never tell Gwen this, because then a daily meditation session would be mandatory and they don't have the time for that yet, but he uses a modified version of it whenever he gets overwhelmed now. Which is a lot, after Gray, Tosh and Owen, and spending two thousand years in the dirt. His mind feels frayed almost constantly, and he needs to work through things. 

He places his order for Ianto's favourite tikka masala and his own madras curry, then steps aside to wait. As he does, he takes the moment to reflect.

What is he feeling right now? Is he anxious about this? Is he happy about this? He frowns and thinks about it. Both? Yeah, both sounds about right. Why does he feel this way? Where does it stem from? Ianto, he knows that. A lot of it comes from Ianto. Is this something he should be worried about? No. Ianto is never a bad thing. So... what does that mean, when he thinks about Ianto all the time and he worries about Ianto's well-being and practically lives with Ianto? And why does that make him both happy and anxious?

He puzzles on that as he walks back with his boxes of curry to the SUV. When he figures out the answer, he almost spills the curries all over the seats (thankfully he doesn't; Ianto would be so mad...). 

Is Jack in love with Ianto? 

He sits in the driver's seat and stares out the window for a while. Then shakes himself, remembering he has to get Ianto's curry to him before it gets cold. Ianto doesn't like cold curry. He starts the car and tries to resume his mindful thinking.

Okay. So he's in love with Ianto. He might not be able to process that, but he can process the smaller things. 

_Why_ does he love Ianto?

It's a broad question, but one he can tackle, because the individual things are easier than the whole. Ianto as a whole is... almost unfathomable, really. Jack can't do it, not when he's consciously thinking about it. Smaller things are better to comprehend. He can even make a list of them, because it's a smart idea to have it all in order. Should the occasion ever arise... well. It would be good to have everything prepared. Just in case. And Ianto does love a good list.

So, individually speaking, what does he love about Ianto that makes him _love Ianto_?

* * *

**1: Jack loves sex with Ianto.**

Well, this is obvious. Who wouldn't love sex with Ianto? Ianto has such adroit, nimble hands that can do wondrous things. And he has an absolutely filthy mind, too. Dirtier than Owen's ever was, but he'd never let that slip. Possibly as dirty as Jack's. No, definitely as dirty as Jack's, otherwise the sex wouldn't be this good. 

The actual sex aside (because Ianto already knows how good it is, and he doesn't need Jack to tell him when Jack could just _show_ him, anyway), Ianto is very open-minded about a lot of things sex-related. For one thing, Jack is pretty certain that Ianto didn't actually know he was into men before Jack. Or maybe he knew, but he hadn't understood, because the first time they'd been together was clearly Ianto's first with another man--it had been kind of adorable, watching him try to figure things out on the fly like that. He'd been a little clumsy, too. And his face by the end of it, it had been one of recognition. Of comprehension, seemingly at last. So, the fact that Ianto had even been willing to try when he had been so unsure was... well, it could be commended. Most men wouldn't. 

Then there had been after the Brecon Beacons. Jack shivers even now, thinking about those cannibals. Imagine how Ianto must feel, after having nearly been bled out by them? After having been beaten to a pulp, gagged, tied up, neck nearly slit open... The fact that Ianto was willing to let Jack help desensitise him to things like handcuffs or gags, even months later, was something astonishing. Of course, Ianto had never let Jack come near him with a straight razor, which is still a shame to this day, because Jack still wants to show him how to have a good, proper shave. 

Now, is it the best sex he's had? Probably not, but it is up there. And it it's... well, it's a bit nice, to be that close with someone Jack cares about. It makes the post-coital snuggle even better. Especially considering that post-coital snuggles hadn't always been on Jack's radar, really. Sometimes, they had been, but they _definitely_ were after he and Ianto got involved. Ianto is cuddly by nature, though he would sooner kiss a Weevil than admit it.

"Mm. Scoot over," Jack had once said after a particularly interesting round in Jack's bunker.

"Nowhere to scoot to," Ianto mumbled, already drowsy. (It's very sweet, how sleepy Ianto can get.)

"Yes, there is," Jack said. "Just to your left. Move over, my leg's falling asleep."

"So'm I."

Then Ianto had rolled closer to Jack, instead of away, and therefore crushed Jack's leg even further. Jack had been about to shove Ianto over when the soft puffs of breath against his neck evened out. Jack had looked down at Ianto to see his face smooshed up against Jack's shoulder, eyes closed and mouth open just slightly, clearly asleep. Jack had stared at him for a good, long while, unable to do anything both from the pressure on his leg (which was absolutely dead by that point) and the pressure on his chest, because something in his heart had been stirring in a way it hadn't been in a while.

So, yeah. Sex with Ianto. It's very good.

**2: Ianto's voice is... wow.**

Jack knows he says a lot about Ianto's vowels, but he _means it_. Every last word. That mouth of Ianto's... it's made for saying all sorts of things, both foul and holy. If Jack was a poet, he would write sonnets and haiku and limericks just for Ianto's mouth alone. It would be glorious.

Pity Jack isn't a poet...

Yes, alright, Jack does have a thing for most accents, and most Welsh accents in particular (just something about the way they clip their _g_ 's off--it's rather soft. Jack _likes_ soft), but Ianto's is something else entirely. It's rough and gentle, sturdy and quiet, vulgar and sacred... all the sorts of things one would expect from Ianto Jones. Contradictory, yet it makes complete sense, coming from him. It's marvellous, the way his voice embodies him so well. It should be considered a work of art, at this point. 

Sure, Ianto's accent does tend to wobble around a little bit. One moment, it'll be posh and prim, and then the next it'll be plain and standard, and when he slips up it ends up as Welsh as Welsh can get. But Jack takes that as a good sign. It means Ianto's looking for his place in the world, all through his voice. He's fighting against needing to be posh, for the most part. He lets his voice be its (mostly) normal self. And then he'll be tired and he'll sound like a true Welshman and he won't even bother to fix it, not even when he's around Jack, and that's a good thing. It means he's okay with being himself, for a change. It's the best possible outcome, considering that damn mask that Ianto wears.

And, best of all, Ianto knows how to use his voice to comfort. Jack doesn't like to think about how that came to be, not when he doesn't want to think about the hell Ianto went through, the hoops he jumped through, just to keep Lisa alive. But Jack does enjoy reaping the benefits of Ianto's comforting voice. Not that he much likes getting to the point where he does reap the benefits of it, but all things considered, it's preferable to hear Ianto than it is to wake up alone. Especially the time Jack had gasped back to life from a particularly gruesome dose of Blowfish poison.

"Jack."

Jack had kept gasping, unsure of anything. He _hurt_. It _hurt_ to come back, and it was so _confusing_. 

"Jack, you're okay," Ianto's voice had told him. "I'm right here."

Arms tightened their embrace around him. 

"Ianto," Jack sobbed.

"I'm right here," Ianto had told him again. "I've got you."

_"Ianto."_

"You're going to be fine in a moment." Ianto's voice was gentle and kind, yet firm. "I'm right here."

And Ianto had whispered assurances to him until his head cleared and everything made sense again.

So, really, is it any wonder that Jack loves Ianto's voice?

**3: Ianto has the most amazing smile.**

The worst thing about Ianto, Jack thinks, is that he doesn't smile much. So many things have made Ianto bottle himself up and put on his mask. Jack will not lie--he _hates_ that mask. Not the professional mask that Ianto puts on at the Hub, no. He knows that's what Ianto puts on to feel comfortable. Like a suit. It's just part of his attire. 

But the mask Ianto puts on for the world? It makes Jack sad. 

He knows where it came from. The universe hadn't been good to Ianto for a very long time. Maybe it never had been to begin with. A piece-of-shit father, a near-absent mother (though she did try, at the end, which Jack is grateful for), a sister who just doesn't understand (not for complete lack of trying--another thing Jack is thankful for). A wayward childhood, a misspent youth, a lost adulthood. Dead colleagues, dead girlfriend, dead friends. And that's not to mention everything else, all the side effects and the smaller things. Blow after blow, the universe just beats down on Ianto. And Ianto has learned to take it with a plastered-on smile and dead eyes in order to keep himself safe. 

Jack wants to take away the mask. But it would leave Ianto raw and exposed, which is something Ianto doesn't think he can handle. Jack is certain Ianto can handle anything at this point; however, he knows not to test it. Ianto can keep his mask. Jack will just have to live with it. 

The positive side of the mask is that when Ianto smiles and laughs, it's absolutely _radiant_. Well and truly smiles, that is. That secretive smirk Ianto seems to have more than enough to spread around... that's a corollary of his mask. It's a fake smile to appease others. No, Ianto's true smile is something to behold. It's like the sunshine came out after a month of nothing but rain, and Jack is a bendy little tulip that's been drowning. Or so to speak. 

Jack remembers one time they'd been on Ianto's sofa, not really doing anything in particular. Jack had just related one particular story about his travels with the Doctor that he actually felt okay with sharing. Next thing he knew, Ianto had burst out laughing. Jack couldn't fathom _why_ , as the story had just been one of the more mundane things on the trip. But Ianto laughed and laughed and laughed, and Jack found himself staring at Ianto for an entirely different reason than confusion.

"What?" Ianto had asked, laughter cut off almost immediately.

"You're... laughing," Jack said, breathless with near-astonishment.

Ianto had turned away, ears tinged red. "Yeah, well. It was funny." 

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Jack said.

He leaned closer, reaching a hand out to turn Ianto's cheek back to him. Ianto looked at Jack, still slightly embarrassed, and Jack smiled at him. It wasn't much longer until Ianto's smile returned, too, with a small huff of laughter escaping his lips again. Jack didn't know how his own smile could get any wider, but it did.

Ianto's smile is one of the most beautiful things Jack has ever seen. And he's seen sunsets on the coast of the Boeshane Peninsula. And firebirds--he's even seen a firebird. Ianto's smile is more beautiful than that. 

**4: Ianto is practically built for love.**

Not even joking. That body is made to be loved. To be held. Jack looks at it and... well, okay, first he thinks lustful things about it, and then he thinks, wow, it's an incredible body. Because it _is_. 

Ianto is less sure about his body, which is so unfortunate.

One of the most awful things about the twenty-first century is the policing of body image. It's not as bad as the public view of sexuality and gender, and it's not as terrifying as the global view on things like, well, climate change and other devastatingly large things like that, but... it's still bad. And not to mention, only attainable for some, anyways. Ianto wants it to be attainable for him, which makes Jack very, very angry. Ianto thinks the peak form of being is thin and toned. Jack thinks that is _incredibly_ stupid. Sure, people can pull off thin and toned. It can be a wonderful look. But should the rest of the world look like that? No. That would be absolutely boring. Dull as all hell. The monotony of it would kill Jack for good. And should _Ianto_ have to look like that? No! Ianto should look like Ianto. Ianto looks best when he looks like Ianto.

Jack remembers back when Ianto was thin. That had been right before Lisa, and after Lisa, too. Jack thinks the stress made him stop eating, which came back around and bit him in the arse, because it made his mental health even worse. That's something Jack has to remind Ianto about constantly--things get bad when he doesn't eat properly. Of course, Ianto doesn't always intentionally eat poorly, because he does get a bit caught up with things, and then just forgets to eat. It's better at work, when he's thinking about feeding everyone else, but feeding himself often goes off his own radar. Or, at least, so he's told Jack.

"Sometimes, it's just gone nine before I can remember I need to eat," Ianto confessed to him as he scrubbed the last plate he was washing.

Jack took the plate after it was rinsed, towelling it dry. "Why don't you just eat then?"

"Because I can't sleep if I eat only a few hours before," Ianto had told him.

"Can't sleep and digest at the same time?"

Ianto had shrugged. "Guess not. And I need the sleep more than I need the food."

"What makes you say that?" Jack asked.

The way Ianto gestured vaguely to his stomach had Jack absolutely appalled. He's seen the way Ianto has carefully arranged the tuck of his shirt to hide the love handles, and it makes him so upset that Ianto doesn't enjoy them like Jack does.

Jack loves Ianto's love handles. It's in the _name_ , so how could he not? It means Ianto is full of love and is meant to be loved in return. That's what Jack's mother used to say, anyways. The term is much more beautifully used in the future. In the twenty-first century, they are just something to eradicate. Jack doesn't want that. Not one bit. Ianto is perfect for cuddling with his love handles. Nice and soft beneath Jack's touch. They're absolutely beautiful. _Ianto_ is beautiful. So, the fact that Ianto wants to take away something that adds to his beauty hurts Jack in so many ways. Taking them away means Ianto is less soft under Jack's hands, that Ianto turns into another monotonous body, that Ianto might go to a bad place mentally. Jack hates to think about any of those.

Ever since that conversation, Jack makes sure to add extra attention to Ianto's love handles, just so that Ianto can understand how made for love he is. 

**5: Ianto is the most extraordinary person to ever exist.**

That is absolutely exciting. Out of thousands and thousands of all the creatures Jack has met, out of every single person he's ever slept with, not one person is as seemingly ordinary as Ianto Jones. Which means that, of course, Ianto Jones is extraordinary.

Ianto likes things most people like. Star Wars, a good lager, curries and pizzas, hanging out with mates, doing a good job at work. Ianto does things most people do. He cleans his flat, he feeds his pets (if one could call Myfanwy a pet), he watches telly, he goes to work. Ianto even has strange things about him that are like most people. He can whistle with an inhale and an exhale. He can sing the alphabet backwards. He is a very "bendy" person. He can file reports just a little better than most people. He sort of even looks ordinary (to most people--not to Jack. Jack looks at Ianto and sees beauty, not "ordinary." But Jack knows that might not be the case for everyone else). No different from the other average Welshmen (yet again, to _most_ people).

And yet, Ianto is not ordinary in the slightest. If he was, he'd be the most ordinary man amongst completely not ordinary situations. Everywhere he goes, chaos and shenanigans seem to follow. London, Cardiff, the Brecon Beacons, that one time he was on a plane... Ianto has the knack for getting himself into weird and often horrific situations. But, somehow, he always manages to come out alive (albeit not unscathed, though Jack is working to fix that). Ianto is the eye of the strangest storm Jack has ever seen. So, being ordinary where everything else fails to be the same, well. That takes some sort of character. Which means, of course, _extraordinary_.

Plus, there are a lot of other not-ordinary things about Ianto. He can name, clean, and shoot all the weapons in the Hub's armoury. He remembers most things he's ever crammed in that pretty head of his. He fights aliens for a living (though that might fit under the "not ordinary situations" bit). And he knows a lot of random facts about random things.

"It's called a 'blessing,'" Ianto had informed Jack as Jack struggled to write out the report on the sudden invasion of unicorns in Roath Park. 

"A what?" Jack asked, looking up.

"You wrote 'a herd of unicorns.' It's called a 'blessing.'"

Jack had frowned. "Okay. And why do you know that?"

Ianto shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

That had been that on that.

(Also, Jack is dead certain Ianto is probably reliving his PTSD issues at the moment, along with other things that he bottles up and keeps hidden under his mask. That is not _at all_ ordinary, and Jack is about two seconds from obtaining the best psychotherapist he can find and sticking Ianto in front of them until Ianto learns to deal with his problems and comes back just a little bit better.)

But otherwise, yes. Ianto is... something else. Jack can hardly believe that he's lucky enough to be with such a person. Ianto Jones, the extraordinary ordinary man. 

* * *

Jack parks the SUV and takes another moment to sit still and think about what that all means.

If Gwen was here, she'd probably smack him upside the head (in the friendly way she did, of course) and tell him that he's an idiot. If Ianto was here, he'd roll his eyes and say, "It means you love me, you daft sod. Now, go up and give me my curry before it gets too cold. You know it never reheats well."

Jack can't argue with his brain-Ianto's logic there, can he?

He grabs the curries from the passenger seat, hops out of the SUV, locks it, and then dashes up to Ianto's flat. He pounds on the door, feeling nervous jitters, adrenaline, and excitement all mix together. Oh, damn, he feels like he needs to go for a run. Or stand on his head until all the blood returns to it. 

"You don't have to knock so loud," Ianto grouses as he opens the door. 

He looks slightly surly, his brow furrowed gently and his lips halfway to a pout. Jack smiles at him nonetheless. He holds up Ianto's box of curry. Or possibly his own. He can't remember which is which at the moment. They'll figure it out when they open it.

"Brought you your curry," Jack says.

Ianto stares at it.

"Oh," he says.

"You forgot, didn't you?" 

"No, no, I was just... busy," Ianto says, which doesn't make much sense. 

He opens the door wider and lets Jack step in. Jack hands him both curries, and he takes them and stares down at them. Jack takes his now-free hands and cups them around Ianto's face, lifting it back up to him. Ianto blinks at him and Jack just grins more, then steps closer to kiss him.

Jack keeps the kiss nice and slow. He's notorious for making things fast, and so is Ianto, because they're both "horny little shits" (as Owen once said) who can't keep their hands off each other long enough to make things last. But Ianto's hands are full of curry--curry which Jack plans on having him eat in a few moments. Just not before Jack can show Ianto just how much Ianto means to him, because Jack has always been better at showing than saying. 

When they part, Ianto's lips form a small _o_ shape, and he's still blinking in shock. Jack keeps smiling, gently stroking his thumbs over Ianto's cheekbones.

"When did our laundry start being our laundry?" Jack asks softly.

"What?" Ianto asks, possibly dazed into oblivion. He very much looks that way.

"When did I move in with you?" Jack asks, his thumbs tracing lines up and down those lovely cheekbones.

"You did?" 

Jack laughs, because Ianto still seems rather out of it.

"Let's get you fed first," he says, "and then we can try this conversation again."

Ianto stares at him for another moment, shakes his head to clear it, and then takes the curries to his table, muttering to himself about dramatic entrances. Jack drops his hands back to his sides and smiles to himself as he follows.

Yeah. He loves Ianto. He has no doubts about that now.

**Author's Note:**

> Not my usual thing to write, but I _had_ to write it. Because listen. Love handles. Are full of love. Especially Ianto's. Ianto's hold the most love. Got that? Good.  
> Unedited, and therefore _disgustingly_ verbose. Deal with it.  
> Thanks for reading! Have a nice day!


End file.
